Poetry · Writing

oak base

chances are the me you knew yesterday is gone; shifted learned something new experienced something different saw something unique he might still walk and breathe the same the tree you walk past everyday you wouldn't notice it everyday but a new leaf sprouted founded on yesterday

Poetry · Writing

little red dream

she wishes from a washed brick balcony stars too far to hear her but her song still travels paved with a milky trail of clouds it might be all that's left she'll never cease her song until the day the stars reach their subtle ears closer to her wolf proof balcony she'll be back the… Continue reading little red dream